


Too close to Feelings

by Dekka



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Addiction, M/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:27:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29417127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dekka/pseuds/Dekka
Summary: Addiction is a monster. It has eyes that follow you, claws that dig into you, and teeth that tear you from your loved ones.It’s what led Tk to this moment, sitting across from a therapist while he trembles from withdrawal.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 3
Kudos: 57





	Too close to Feelings

Addiction is a monster. It has eyes that follow you, claws that dig into you, and teeth that tear you from your loved ones. 

It’s what led Tk to this moment, sitting across from a therapist while he trembles from withdrawal. Because Tk knows his monsters well. He’s confronted them, fought them, killed them, and resurrected them all in one year, and somehow it still wasn't enough to keep himself from making the same mistakes over again. 

“I just- I hate that I did this to my dad,” he admits, when it’s been silent for too long. The Doctor likes to do that to him, almost like she’s waiting him out. “He doesn't deserve to feel the weight of all this shit because of me.” 

“And how exactly do you think he feels about all of this?” She motions to Tk’s being, his whole self, his life, his curled up form on a stranger’s couch who might just be able to fix him but might just make things worse. 

“Dads are invincible, right?” He asks. 

She hesitates, then nods, playing into his line of thought. 

“But he wasn't that day,” Tk tells her. “When I woke up, he looked lost, alone- everything I’ve been feeling was just dumped on him at that moment. And I did that to him. I made him feel like me.” His Dad does so much for him and is always there for him no matter what. He knows it wasn't fair to make him feel that way, to be left behind, forgotten, in favor of a short-lived release. 

“You don't deserve to feel that way either,” Tk’s therapist tells him. Her name is Anna- a short women, Texan to the bone, who doesn't blink as much as Tk wishes she would. “And you don't deserve to suffer in silence,” she goes on. “Just because he didn't know you were hurting, doesn't mean everything was okay.” 

“ _But I did this_ ,” Tk says, all too aware of his problem. “I deserve the consequences, not him.” In his lap, his hands shake with a tremor that hasn't gone away in days. He wonders if it’ll ever leave him or if the anxiety that’s piggy backing off his come-down is here to stay. 

“Is withdrawal not enough of a consequence?” Anna’s testing him and all he can do is try to hold himself together while it feels like the world around him tips on its axis. 

In his head, it all makes sense; punishment follows crime, withdrawal follows relapse. The world of addiction is a never ending circle, with periods of recovery prolonged only long enough to give you a false sense of security before the _need_ ruefully awakens. 

“It’s the consequence that matters most,” he answers. 

“And why is that?” Again, she doesn't blink and doesn't take her eyes from him. He thinks that’s maybe why his dad picked her. She notices things. Things she shouldn't. 

“I don't think I know,” he says honestly. “I’ve just always felt that way.” 

When she leans forward, he already knows what she’s going to say will ruin him. “Maybe,” she starts, terribly gentle, “it’s because suffering through the withdrawal process is another way you can prolong physically hurting yourself after your initial relapse. You want the punishment.” 

Like red, flashing lights, his hackles rise. “I don't want to hurt myself. And I didn’t want to kill myself.” 

She leans back, knowingly. 

“Okay,” he amends, “I didn't plan to…” but his words trail off, uncertain. 

The game has been made. She led him right where she wanted him. “But you did. You did make a plan, knowingly. You found a dealer, you locked your door, and you didn't reach out to any of your past sobriety sponsors despite knowing what you intended to do.” 

Silent, he nods. “I- I did.” The night itself is hard to remember. There was the ring, and his image of his future, and then there was nothing until there was his dad, whose face was ashen as he pulled him into his chest when Tk finally was able to breathe again. 

Just the memory has the shaking in his hands traveling up to his chest where his lungs choke on his next breath. 

“Breathe,” Anna reminds him. 

He laughs humorlessly until he chokes on that too. “It’s not a therapy session until i’ve had a panic attack, right?” Despite the wheeze in his throat, she hears him all too clearly. 

“Didn’t you hear I only get paid after you’ve had one?” She counters. It shocks a real laugh from him even as she moves to his side to coach him through it. “Better you have one here with someone who can help you,” she tells him, when he can't help but apologize.

“And Tk?” She waits for his attention, for wide eyes and lips parted in a gasp- begging to pull in air that won't come- to meet her gaze. “You will not go looking for a dealer here. You will stay clean. You will overcome this. And you will reach out to someone if the need arises.” 

He doesn't believe a single word. 

“ _Say it_.” 

“I wont find a dealer.” His next breath lodges just under his sternum, pressing, insistent. “I will stay clean.” Even if he wanted to, he doesn't know if he can. “I will overcome this.” 

“And?” She presses. 

“I’ll reach out to someone if I think i'm going to relapse.” It’s never been true, for him. Just like it wasn't true the last time he relapsed and the time before that, too. It’s always too in the moment, like a truck coming at you full speed down the highway, you don't have time to call someone before the impact hits, hard. 

“Positive affirmations,” she says, for maybe the thousandth time since he met her. “I want you saying them every morning, every night, and every time you feel this overwhelming panic you’re feeling now.”

Despite the bullshit, he manages to settle his breathing before his dad picks him up and meets with Anna. 

“Is he okay to work a shift?” Tk hears him ask, as if Tk isn't right behind him, on his own two feet and everything. 

“Although stressors should be limited,” Anna starts, meeting Tk’s eyes from over his dad’s shoulder, “I believe work is a good distraction for Tk.”

For the first time since they arrived in Texas, he feels like maybe he’s won some shred of control back. 

‘Thank you,’ he mouths to her. 

A subtle thumbs up is thrown his way, and if her proud smile didn't tape a section of his aching heart back together, her session’s follow up email with links to positive affirmation meditations would’ve. 

It’s later that night, on a shift he was almost banned from taking, that he meets Carlos. For the second time in too few days, the rug under his feet is pulled away.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed the writer :) Let me know if you want to see more of this!


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